Prejudice
by Hauptmann Holmes
Summary: When Festus left Glenn Jones in the marshal's office overnight, he got an earful from Matt-and Glenn's mother, Julia. Festus tries to make it up to Mrs. Jones and quickly becomes embroiled in her life and problems.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Gunsmoke_.

**Note:** I always hated that the writers of _Gunsmoke_ never gave Festus a love interest after April ran away or was kicked off the show. This is my remedy to that situation. This is part one of about 8 or 9. I'm done with up to part five or so and I'll post them here fairly regularly.

**. . .**

"You're in a heap of trouble, Festus," Doc Adams smiled over his beer. "A whole heap of trouble."

Festus paused mid-sip. "What're y' talkin' about, Doc? I ain't done nothin'!"

"I'm talking about Glenn's mother, the widow Jones, being out for your blood over what happened with her boy. She came into town earlier, fit to be tied, lookin' for you."

His eyes widened as he gulped the rest of his beer. "Well why didn't y' tell me before, you ole scutter! I've gotta get out," he whirled around and cannoned into a young woman. "Beggin' yer pardon, ma'am, I was just leavin'," he righted her.

"Not at all, Mr. Haggen."

He took off his hat. "I'm sorry, ma'am, do I know you?"

Doc cleared his throat and stood. "Festus, this is Mrs. Jones."

Festus paled. "H-Howdy, Mrs. Jones."

"Mr. Haggen, I'd like to have a word with you," she straightened her already immaculate skirt. "We can either speak here or outside."

"I'd pr'fer outside, if'n you don't mind, ma'am."

"Very well," she turned on her heel and exited the Long Branch.

Festus gave Doc an agonized look.

Doc raised his hands. "Don't look at me you got yourself into it, you can get yourself out!"

He dragged his feet on the way to the door, trying to find the right sort of words to say to Mrs. Jones. He didn't find any. Mrs. Jones was sitting on the bench just outside the door. She stood at his approach.

"Before y' say anythin', I'd like t' get my side of the story in."

"Fair enough," she reseated herself. "Go on."

He sat on the extreme edge of the bench. "First off, your boy is a fine young'n. He's smart 'n he hunts like a wolf 'n fishes like a cat. But somehow, on the night you're thinkin' of, he got it all the wrong way round! He asked me if'n he could watch t' office for me n' I only said yes because I knew that it would be a safe place for him while he was in town. I didn't mean for him to stay the whole night through! But it was his sense a' duty t' me 'n the marshal that kept him there—"

Mrs. Jones held up her hand. "Mr. Haggen, I know all of this. Glenn told me as much himself after he came home. I don't hold you responsible—for that. But taking my boy out of school without my permission and taking him fishing," she shook her head. "If you ever do that again I'll be forced to press charges. Deputy Marshal or not," she stood. "Good evening, Mr. Haggen."

Festus was left, sitting on the edge of the bench, staring at her receding form.

Inside, Doc and Miss Kitty exchanged looks from their vantage point.

"Poor Festus," Kitty shook her head. "Do you see the look on his face?"

"Yes," Doc chuckled. "He's in love!"

The next morning, Festus paced the length of the marshal's office. Four paces up, four paces back. He stared at the floor the whole time, not saying a word. Matt watched from behind his desk. Four paces up, four paces back.

"Festus?"

"Mmm?"

"What're you thinking about? It must be something important if you're wearing a trail into my floorboards."

Festus halted abruptly and sagged into the nearest chair. "Golly Bill, Mathew, I've been a' studyin' all morning on how to make it up to that there Jones woman and I just can't figure it out!"

"Well, have you had any ideas at all?"

"I thought on givin' her a nice big bunch of wild flowers, but I don't reckon that she'd be the type a' women to take kindly to flowers from a fella like me."

"It's not the kind of thing to get as an apology. Have you tried telling her that you're sorry?"

Festus frowned at Matt. "Could it be that easy?"

"It could."

"I don't know, Matthew, she's a woman…"

"What difference does that make?"

"Sometimes women are unreasonable," he grumbled.

"Festus," Matt paced over to the table and sat next to him. "I met Mrs. Jones when she first came into town. She's got a level head and, if you put it the right way, she'll listen to what you have to say. Just apologize, it'll work."

He shook his head. "I reckon so."

**. . .**

Mrs. Julia Jones folded the bread dough with almost clockwork precision. The simple, repetitive action soothed her nerves. Last night's encounter with the local she thought on what to call Festus. Saddle tramp? Deputy Marshal? Drunk? Julia shook her head. It didn't matter. Whatever he was, he'd crossed definite boundaries. Imagine taking someone else's child out of school for impromptu fishing trips. It would have been unheard of in Boston. She paused her kneading. There were many things in Kansas that were unheard of in Boston.

A loud knocking interrupted her thoughts. She looked around for a few moments, dazed by the suddenness of the noise. A second knock jarred her into realization. Someone was at the door. Julia tapped her foot impatiently. She wasn't expecting anyone that afternoon and she was loath to interrupt her baking to open the door. The person knocked a third time and years of etiquette lessons bade her answer the door.

"Ah, Mr. Haggen."

He stood on the porch, hat in hand. "Howdy, Mrs. Jones, I just come over to make my peace with you 'n apologize for doin' wrong by you. Is there anything I can do to make it up t' y'?"

"What makes you think you can make it up to me? What if I'm irreparably angry with you?" Julia crossed her arms, trying to communicate what her words were obviously failing to.

His eyebrows drew together. "Well… I'm not rightly sure what 'irreparably' means. But I am to try and make y' see how sorry I am."

She looked around the yard. "My barn needs painting," she settled. "You'll find both paint and whitewash inside."

He slapped his hat back on his head. "When can I start?"

"Right away. And make sure you do a good job."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Gunsmoke_ but Julia is mine.

**Note:** In this chapter we learn of Mrs. Jones' darker problems.

**. . .**

Festus slapped the last brushful of paint onto the barn. He leaned back and surveyed his work. It was a week since Mrs. Jones had given him the job with nothing more than the promise of her forgiveness for a reward. He smiled at his work, pleased with the results. The barn was now a fresher shade of red and the trim fairly shone white.

Julia stood the porch, sipping a cup of coffee. The barn did look better. Mr. Haggen had exceeded her expectations. "There's a cup of coffee if you'd like one."

He turned and jingled over to the porch. "Much obliged, Mrs. Jones. What'd ya' think of the barn?"

She made a show of looking over the barn very closely. "You've done a good job, Mr. Haggen. So good, in fact, I've decided to give you more work—if you're willing, that is."

"What sort a' work?"

"Well," she surveyed her tidy little farmyard. "There are a plethora of things that need doing and trustworthy workers are hard to find."

He raised his eyebrows.

"By trustworthy I mean that you won't make off with my valuables if I have to take a trip into town. After a week, I think that you can be left alone. Now, are you willing? I'll pay you, of course."

"Just one more question," he drained the last of the coffee from his mug. "Why do you need this work done all of a sudden? Matthew said that you'd been out here for the last six months and you haven't done one thing to fix the place up since then exceptin' t' inside of the house. So why now?"

She placed her mug on the porch and folded her hands. "I have visitors coming. Important ones. I'd like to impress upon them that this is my home now and, well, it needs some improvement to help prove my point. Satisfied?"

"Yes'm. What'd y' need done first?"

**. . .**

Aches throbbed dully all over Festus' body, but he continued to hammer the nails into the cedar shingles of Mrs. Jones' roof. He wiped his forehead with the back of a sweaty hand, defeating the purpose completely. The last nail was being particularly stubborn and a flash of dull pain shot through his shoulder as he pounded it home. He let out a discontented sigh. All this work wasn't good for a Haggen.

Festus took a moment to admire the view from the roof. Kansas spread out below him, starting with the small grove of trees on the north side of the Jones' farm. It stretched as far as he could see and, he imagined, continued even beyond that. Without prior warning, a rider appeared from the grove of trees and continued riding north. Even from a good ways off, something about the rider bothered Festus. He shook himself and climbed down from the roof. It was probably just a drifter.

He found Julia hanging the day's washing. "Howdy, Mrs. Jones."

She returned his greeting without pausing in her work.

"I just come t' see y' on account of a have a question," he paused, waiting for a response.

Julia turned her eyes to him briefly. "Well?"

"D' you have any ranch hands out here?"

"Mr. Haggen," she firmly fixed a last clothespin on the line. "I have no cattle or other large livestock and therefore have no need of ranch hands. Does that answer your question," she shook her head in an exasperated fashion and began to hang the next piece of laundry.

"I only asked because I seen a man riding off out a' them woods up on the north corner."

One of Glenn's shirts slipped from her hand.

"I reckon you know him."

"No, but out here anyone can be dangerous."

"A' course. I done finished that roof a' yours, I'll be goin' home for the day," he crossed the yard and mounted Ruth. "Mrs. Jones," he tipped his hat and rode north toward the small wood. Once he reached it, he found a half-way comfortable spot and settled in for the night.

Somewhere around midnight, when the moon was full and round, certain noises reached his ears. The subtle clink of horses hooves against hidden rocks, cracking twigs, forceful breaths. The same rider from earlier in the day rode within six feet of Festus and Ruth without noticing them. When the man was well away, Festus shook his head.

**. . .**

Another afternoon of ruffled nerves saw Julia baking again. She distractedly picked at the bread. The rider was most likely just a drifter, nothing more. But it worried her. She didn't like strangers that close to her house. Just as before, a knock at the door stirred her from her thoughts. And just as before it was Festus at the door.

"What do you want now?"

"You was lyin' t' me about that feller yesterday. Who is he?"

She could feel the blood drain from her face. "I don't know," her breath came in rasps. She tried to slam the door but he wedged his foot in it and pushed his way in.

"Look here, woman, I know I ain't got no right but I'm mighty fond a' that boy a' yours and I'd like t' know if he's in any danger. Maybe I could help," he stood a little straighter. "Besides, if'n you can't trust your enemies, who can you trust?"

Julia smiled in spite of herself. "You're smarter than people give you credit for. Come in and sit down."

Once he was seated comfortably at her kitchen table, she turned back to the bread. She stared down at the dough, trying to find the right words. "I'm from Boston, originally. My family is one of the wealthiest in all of Massachusetts," she leaned into the dough. "Jonas Winters, my father, is what's called a steel baron. He wanted to cement a business partnership with Nathan Jones, the railroad owner. And what better way to cement business ties than to have your daughter marry your business partner's son. So my father sent me west like I was a shipment of rails," Julia punched the dough one last time and shoved it away in a puff of flour. She turned to face Festus. "I was married to Peter Jones for seven years when he died in a railroad accident. He was surveying a new tunneling operation when it collapsed, killing him and ten other men.

"Peter left me with over ten thousand in gambling debts and a mistress in a cheap apartment in downtown San Francisco. I spent most of the money from the sale of our house paying off his debts—and his mistress. Just as I thought everything was settling down, I started to get letters. Horrible, slanderous, anonymous letters. They claimed that," she paused, picking at her apron strings. "That Glenn wasn't Peter's son. It was a lie, of course, but the sender demanded that I pay him a ridiculous sum of money or he would send some supposed proof to my parents.

"I knew there was no proof. Glenn is Peter Jones' son. Armed with this knowledge, I penned an acidly toned letter and left if where I was supposed to leave the money. Two weeks later I received a telegram from my mother informing me that she would not have an 'adulterous tramp' in her family and that I was written out of the will. It gets worse, of course. The blackmailer also found some way to tell all of my supposed friends. I had no choice to take Glenn and leave California. Eventually we found our way here. You know the rest."

"What about that feller ridin' 'round your woods? What does he have t' do with any a' this?"

"Last week I started getting letters from the blackmailer again, suggesting the same terrible lies and," she colored slightly, "new ones. They wouldn't worry me under normal circumstances. The people of Dodge are smart enough to know outright lies when they hear them but… The important visitors that are coming to see my farm? They're my family and a few old friends who are willing to give me a second chance. That's why I want everything to go well, you see," she took a hesitant step forward, clutching and unclutching her hands. "I want Glenn to know his grandparents and his aunts. You of all people know how important family is, Mr. Haggen. I've... I've been paying him. The ten dollars I'm giving you for helping me fix this place up are my last ten dollars."

A deep silence fell over the kitchen. She paced over to the table and sank into a chair. There she sat; shoulders slumped forwards, trembling slightly. She remained still for a few moments, and then pulled herself upright. "I wouldn't normally tell all of this to someone I'd known less than a month, Mr. Haggen, but you have that sort of face."

He frowned.

"I meant a listening sort of face. Besides, as you said, if you can't trust your enemies, who can you trust?" the corners of her mouth tried to pull themselves into a smile. She looked straight into his eyes. "I've told you everything. What shall we do about it?"

"Well," he leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I reckon the first thing t' do is make sure that this here blackmailin' feller doesn't spill the beans while your parents are here. When'll he want money next?"

"Not until after they leave, if past events are any prediction. But I'm afraid that he'll try to take advantage of their visit. That's why I'm not exactly advertising their visit. I can only hope that he'll hold off until they're gone."

"Now for step two… I reckon this'un'll stick in your craw just a little bit."

"Oh?"

Festus carefully laid the ten dollar coin on her scarred kitchen table. "Before you get t' tellin' me that I earned it fair and square, may I remind you that since I earned it I gets t' choose how I spend it."

She took the coin and tucked it into her apron pocket with a murmured word of thanks.

"That's more like it. Now, since I'm a' fixin' t' stay here 'til this feller, we's gunna have t' have a good story t' tell your boy because he ain't stupid."

"Easy, you're doing work for me and are exhausted and need a place to sleep. I'll let you have the hay loft. You can even stay for dinner."

He grinned. "I reckon I'd like that."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Gunsmoke_, but Julia is mine.

**. . .**

The dough squished between her fingers as she expertly molded it into small round balls. She glanced at the clock on the wall; it was almost time for Glenn to be home. This last, small bit of baking was serving to calm her enough to explain things to Glenn. No, to lie to Glen. It hurt to admit this to herself, but she was lying to protect him. To protect him from the jeers of his classmates, the suspicious looks of their parents, and the whisperings of the entire town. A small voice inside her breathed "Festus wouldn't whisper." She shook her head, there was a perfectly logical reason that he wouldn't whisper: he knew the truth. She glanced up at the clock; it was two fifty-nine.

Just like clockwork, when the wall clock chimed three there was a clatter of hooves in the yard. Unlike other days, the footsteps paused on the porch. No doubt he was noticing Ruth and wondering what Festus' mule was doing there. The footsteps continued until the door banged open.

"Mother, what is Ruth doing outside?"

"Mr. Haggen is here, Glenn," she couldn't bear to look at him. She instead turned her attention to making decorative slices on the dinner rolls.

"What for?"

"For what, dear. He's here to do some work for us. You know, to get ready for when your grandfather and grandmother come to visit. He's the one who painted the barn and fixed the fence."

She could feel Glenn walking closer. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Julia's curled her trembling fingers tighter around the knife. "You know that Mr. Haggen and I haven't been on the best of terms since... Well, since your stay over at the Marshal's office. The work he's done is his way of apologizing for causing me so much worry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you sneaking off to go fishing and hunting instead of going to school," she paused, trying to find the right lies. "The reason he's still here is—is that I need more work done than I thought. He needs more time to finish. And earlier today he told me that Ruth isn't feeling well. So he's going to stay in our barn for the next few days."

She guessed his next question: "Can I go fishing with him tonight?" He quickly affixed: "I'm done with my schoolwork for today!"

Julia, despite trying her best, could not find any objection worthy of voicing. "Very well. But be sure to bring back something for dinner."

**. . .**

"Festus?"

"Yes'm?"

Glenn glanced nervously from his line to Festus and back. "I didn't really want to come fishing."

Festus smiled lightly and shook his head. "I didn't think y' did."

"Why are you at our farm?"

"Well," Festus kept his eyes fixed upon his fishing pole. "Like your ma said, I'm a' doin' some work for her."

"I don't believe you."

"I reckoned you wouldn't."

"Then why are you staying with us?"

"I've got my reasons—and so's your ma'. Now hush, you'll scare the fish."

**. . .**

Julia slid the biscuits into the oven with care. One wrong move would spell a nasty burn and yet another doctor's bill. Doc Adams said that he didn't care when he was paid, but it wounded something deep inside her when she wasn't able to settle her bills right away. Besides, if she didn't save, how was she ever going to get that bakery she dreamed about? Julia shook her head and smiled at herself. Silly dreams were for silly people.

The smile froze on her face. There was a man in her yard, riding close enough to see the faded paisley of his bandana. A great wheezing rasp welled in Julia's lungs. The rider dismounted and pumped water into the leaky trough. She ran for her rifle, pausing for a moment to regain her breath, and walked outside.

The man tipped his hat. "Howdy, ma'am," his eyes rested on her gun. "There's no cause for alarm, I was just ridin' past when I saw the smoke n' thought I could water my horse."

"There's no harm in that—water's free."

"That's mighty kind of you, ma'am," he smiled. "My name is Charlie."

"I'm Mrs. Jones."

"Nice t' meet you, Mrs. Jones. D' you have any work, hereabouts? I'm lookin' to make some money."

"I'm sorry, I already have a stableman," she paused, unsure if this man was genuine in his need for work. "But if you're still looking for something, I believe the Bakers need someone to help with chores. They're about a mile east of here."

Charlie looked off to the east. "Thank y' kindly, Mrs. Jones, I'll be sure to call there." He remounted his horse. "And thank you again for the water, old Red here was in a sorry state."

"You're welcome. Best of luck finding a job."

He tipped his hat and rode off.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, Julia collapsed on the swinging bench. She sat there for a moment, trying to regain control of her breathing. It wheezed between her lips in great gasps.

"Ma!"

Glenn and Festus rode down the path toward the house.

"Ma, look what I caught," Glenn proudly held up two large catfish.

Julia forced herself to smile. "Those are some fine fish, Glenn, why don't you take them inside and clean them."

"You're in for a treat," he grinned at Festus. "Ma makes the best catfish."

"I just bet she does. Now get inside so's I can taste it for m'self!"

He slid off the horse's back with expert ease and dashed in the house.

Julia listened to Festus tie up the horse and his mule.

"Now," he sat next to her on the swinging bench. "What's the matter with you?"

"The man you saw came here while you were out fishing. He said his name was Charlie and that he was looking for work, but I could tell he was lying."

"And how'd that be?"

"I knew him, Mr. Haggen. He was one of my late husband's seedier friends. I remember him dragging my husband home after a long night of drinking and depositing him in the foyer before running off back to the bar."

"Did y' let him know that you knew him?"

"Of course not," she snapped.

"Well, fiddle, Mrs. Jones, don't get all snippy! There's some females that'd just go all t' pieces if'n they were faced with a strange man on their doorstep!"

"You're right, of course. I'm sorry," she squeezed his arm. "It was silly of me to snap so. I even know women like that. There was the one girl in my class at school who couldn't keep a thought in her head for more than five seconds much less be sensible."

He gave her an incredulous look. "Was she a partic'lar friend a' yours?"

"Heavens no! I couldn't stand her; but, since her father was rich, I had to tolerate her company."

Glenn poked his head out the door. "Are you two gunna sit there talking all day or are we gunna have supper?"

**. . .**

"Mother?"

Julia paused mid-scrub. Glenn only called her "mother" when he was being serious. She continued to wash the dish, trying to be nonchalant. "Yes, dear?"

"Why is Festus here?"

"I told you earlier this afternoon, Glenn, I needed some work done."

"But you—you don't like Festus."

She gently laid the plate on the counter and grasped the edge of the sink. "I explained that to you as well."

"I don't believe you. You've been so worried, Ma, and your asthma's been bothering you and it only bothers you when you're really, really worried. What's wrong?"

"There've been some riders around. I was nervous and asked Mr. Haggen to fix some things so he'd have a reason to stay," she couldn't face her son. The lie seemed too transparent to work.

Silence hung in the air as thick as a dust storm.

"All right."

She let out a little sigh of relief and turned to face her son. "Good, I don't like lying to you, Glenn. Now, it's late, go and get ready for bed."

"Sure thing, Ma," he rushed over and hugged her. "Love you."

"I love you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Gunsmoke_, but I do own Julia.

**. . .**

Julia sighed. It was the end of a stressful day. Normally, she would have just retired early; sending Glenn off to do his homework or to wash his face and go to bed. But tonight was different. Before she could go to bed, she felt the compulsive need to check all of the windows and doors.

The front door was last on her list. She opened it and peeked outside. Festus was still sitting on the swinging bench.

"Are you going to stay there all night?"

He spoke without turning his eyes from the road. "I might be."

"You really don't need to," she hesitated. "You could come in and use one of the chairs."

"Thank you kindly, Mrs. Jones, but I think I'll stay out here."

"Can I at least offer you some coffee?"

"I'd be obliged if you could."

She disappeared inside the house and reappeared a few moments later with a pot of coffee and two mugs. "Here, it's a bit strong, but it'll do."

He tipped his cup at her in thanks.

A few moments of silence were all she could tolerate. "Please come inside."

Festus glanced at her. "If'n it really means all that much t' y', I will. But why?"

"I don't know. I suppose I would feel safer if I knew you were closer. Besides, the living room is a more defensible position than the porch."

"You've got me there," he stood, mug in hand and walked through the doorway. "Don't forget to lock it behind me."

**. . .**

Julia stood in front of her mirror, taking in her reflection. Worn thin would be an accurate description of her appearance. She could see the weariness in her eyes. But sleep would not come tonight, she was sure of this. She turned from the mirror. Any sort of rest would do. So she resigned herself to a night of tossing and turning beneath her coverlet. As she blew out the candle she longed, not for the first time, for the warm, comforting arms of her husband. While she detested him and his memory, she did miss the feeling of sharing a bed with someone. Even in the worst days of her marriage, she would always tuck herself under Peter's arm after he fell asleep.

She stared up at the ceiling. It was going to be a long night. She closed her eyes and opened them again. Someone was tapping on her bedroom door. Julia slid her hand under her pillow, grasping for her revolver. Her fingers found it and she stood, ready for anything.

After a few moments, the door creaked open to reveal Festus.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness it's you. I thought…"

He rushed in and closed the door behind him. "You thought right. They're outside now."

Her eyes darted from Festus to the window and back. "They," she murmured. She could already hear the breath starting to rasp through her lungs. "How many of them are there?"

"Round about four, I reckon. More than we could fight on our own."

"What do we do," a tinge of hysteria crept into her mind and voice.

"I don't rightly know," he crossed the room and peeked between the curtains.

Her mind flew to another possibility. "If—if they get in, what will they do when they find out that you're the deputy marshal," she pointed to the badge pinned on his vest.

He glanced from it to her. "Nothin' good."

On impulse, Julia reached out and grabbed the badge.

"What're you doin', woman?"

She reached down the front of her nightgown and pinned the badge to the inside of the cloth. "There, now the least they can accuse you of being is my ranch hand."

"Alone with you in your room in the middle of the night," he snorted. "No sir, they'll accuse me of bein' somethin' far worse n' that."

"Fine," she seized the front of his shirt and dragged him over to the closet. "Get in there."

"Far, far worse," he shook his head. "It's a good idea, Mrs. Jones, but your old dog won't hunt."

"That's too bad," she wrenched the closet door open and shoved him in.

His jaw gaped.

"We only have one horse, Mr. Haggen, and Glenn rides him to school. I push the plow. That kind of work makes a person strong. Now stay in there until I tell you it's safe to come out," she closed the door on his protests and hurried out to the living room in search of her rifle.

Just as she laid her hands on it, the front door burst open and three men rushed in.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you, Mrs. Jones," she turned to see the rider from that afternoon. He smiled in a flash of yellowed teeth. "It wouldn't be safe for you."

Glenn rushed out of his room. "What's going on, ma?!"

"Or for you boy," Charlie continued to grin. "What is safe is you just takin' your boy into your room and staying there until I tell y' to come out. Got that?"

She nodded.

"Then put down that gun and be sensible."

Julia laid the rifle down and took Glenn by his shoulders. "What do you intend to do?"

"Nothin' at all, Mrs. Jones, as long as you pay good attention to what we tell you. Now get back in that room."

She pushed Glenn behind her and through the doorway. The last thing she saw before she closed the door was Charlie's perpetual grin.

"Remember, Mrs. Jones, if you don't give us trouble you'll get none in return."

Glenn pulled at her skirts. "Ma, where's Festus?"

She turned to face her son. "He's hiding in the closet," she whispered, "but it isn't safe for him to come out yet. We must wait until the men fall asleep or disperse to speak to him."

A slight jingling rattle emanated from the closet. She frowned at it before crossing over to the door. "What," she hissed at it.

"I'm a'gunna have t' move soon, Mrs. Jones. I'm stuck betwixt one a' your dresses at the wall!"

She rubbed her face and leaned against the door. "I promise I'll let you out as soon as they go to sleep. Now hush!"

"Oh, Mrs. Jones," Charlie opened the door. "Who're you talking to?"

"Glenn," she straightened. "He was thirsty and wanted a cup of water. I told him that I would let him go out once you were asleep."

"We aren't aiming to sleep tonight, Mrs. Jones, so why don't you and the boy just come on out and meet the rest of the boys," he waved his pistol, ushering them into the main room.

"This here's Angel," Charlie gestured at a sullen Mexican with a drooping moustache and a faded sombrero. He touched the brim and mumbled something that sounded like a greeting in Spanish. "And this is Martin," the second man was leaning on the edge of her kitchen table. He was dressed all in black. It could have been the stress, but Julia was almost certain that there was an almost imperceptible glint in his eyes.

Martin tipped his hat in her direction. "Why, Charlie, you didn't tell me that she looked like that!"

Julia stiffened.

"No trouble," Charlie growled. "You remember our orders."

"Plenty well, good buddy, plenty well. And they don't say a single thing about admiring her looks."

"Admiring leads to other things," he waved his gun at Martin. "So you just keep your mouth shut and keep to the plan," he cleared his throat. "Now, Mrs. Jones, we're goin' to be here for quite some time. So I guess now's a good time for you boy to get his drink and go to bed in had mama's room," Charlie leaned into Glenn's face. "Now."

Glenn scurried off into the kitchen, pumped himself a mug full of water, and ran back to Julia's room.

"I like to see a boy with sense," Charlie smirked. "As for you, we're not going to sleep. We're waiting for our boss. And while we wait you're going to put us up and feed us. And if you don't, if you try to get away or tell someone we're here, I'll take that smart little boy of yours and put a bullet in his brain. Understand, Mrs. Jones?"

"Yes," she rasped.

"Good. Now I suggest that you get some sleep, we like our breakfast early.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Gunsmoke_, but I do own Julia.

**. . .**

Somewhere around three in the morning, exhaustion overcame Julia's swimming mind. When she awoke, the sun was just peeking over the horizon and Glenn was snoring peacefully in her bed. She looked around only to discover that she was leaning up against the closet door. She listened closely for a moment, trying to hear any evidence of her closet's current contents.

After a few moments of silence, she cautiously knocked on the door. "Mr. Haggen, are you awake?"

"I was never asleep," came the somewhat beleaguered reply.

Julia looked from the bedroom door to the closet and back. "Hold on," she crept to the bedroom door and cracked it open. Two of the bandits were in residence. Martin was slumped in her favorite chair with one of her books lying open on his lap. Angel had curled up in front of smoldering remains of the previous night's fire. Charlie was nowhere in sight. She inched the door closed and snuck back to the closet.

Upon opening it, she was confronted with Festus. He was, as advertised, wedged between one of her better dresses and the wall. "My, you look uncomfortable."

"This is one of those times when looks ain't deceiving," he reached down and pulled his spurs discreetly from his boots. Festus let out a long sigh. "I've been a' waitin' all night t' stretch m'self. You have no idea how painful it is to squish a man a' my size int' a space meant for dresses!"  
He stepped out of the closet and shook himself. "I reckon our friends 's still out there."

"Two of them are, but I don't know where the third is. It makes me nervous."

Festus glanced around the room. "You're not the only one. Where'd y' think he's got to?"

"They mentioned something about a boss last night. Perhaps he's gone to get orders."

"That can't be any sort a' good."

"It isn't," she huffed. "Look, will you please stop stating the obvious and try to come up with some plan to get us out of here?"

"What's stoppin' us from goin' out that there front door?"

"Oh, I don't know, the two armed bandits sleeping in my living room?"

Festus pulled his six-shooter from its holster and spun the chamber.

"I take your point. However, there are two of them and I'm not armed. How are you going to solve that particular problem?"

"Look, all I've gotta do is take m'self out there n' thunk 'm on the heads. They'll never know what hit 'em 'n we can just skedaddle on out a' here."

The corners of her lips turned down in disapproval. "Mr. Haggen, I," she shook her head helplessly. "Do what you need to do."

He set his jaw; the lines around is eyes creased, betraying some inner conflict. Festus nodded. "Yes'm."

The floorboards creaked in an alarmingly loud fashion as he tiptoed over to the bedroom door. It creaked open under his touch. He slipped through, closing the door behind him.

What followed were the longest moments of Julia's life. She leaned over the bed, placing a gentle hand over Glenn's mouth. He jerked awake. "Mr. Haggen is going to get is out of here, but you mustn't make a sound until he comes for us."

Glenn nodded.

The bedroom door opened. "C'mon!"

Julia grabbed her son by the arm and pulled him from the room. They were inches from the front door when I opened.

Charlie leveled his gun at Festus. "I knew there was someone else in the room with you, Mrs. Jones. I just had to prove it. Didn't I tell you that she had a man tucked up somewhere, boss?"

Someone standing behind Charlie laughed. "I should have believed you, Charlie."

Julia could feel the blood draining from her face. "I know that voice…"

The man stepped from the shadows. "I should think that you would. After all, we were married for almost ten years," Peter Jones barred his teeth in a cheap imitation smile. "Hello, Julia."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Gunsmoke_, but I do own Julia.

**. . .**

"Aren't you glad to see me?"

Julia straightened, trying to control her fear. "No."

"But, Julia," Peter took a step forward. Julia took a step back. He paused before taking another step and laughed. "Come now, we know each other better than that," his face darkened. "Or do we," he flicked his eyes towards Festus. "You've changed, Julia. When I knew you, you wouldn't have been hiding strange men in your room." Peter turned his eyes from Festus to Glenn. "Or maybe you would."

Her frown deepened. "But.. I-I didn't start getting letters until after—" her mouth fell open. "You! You sent those letters! Those—Those slanderous—and completely untrue!—letters!"

Julia lunged forward, fists swinging, only to be stopped by Festus. He grabbed her by the waist and held her back. "Save your strength," he whispered. "This—feller ain't worth your time."

Peter threw back his head and laughed. "Well, hillbilly, if I'm no good then you certainly aren't!"

Festus set Julia down and pushed her aside. "I'm no good! Me! Golly Bill, comin' from you that's a compliment! I wouldn't want t' be your idea of a man if'n y' paid me!"

Peter's three bandits bristled as Festus stepped forward and prodded Peter's chest. "'N if you have any argument with this here woman, you're gunna have me t' deal with."

"And just what claim do you have on my wife?"

"None 'tall," Festus turned to Julia. "But—But I might like t' have one," he turned back to Peter. "'N if you lay one finger—"

Peter drew his gun and fired. Festus pulled his gun and returned the favor. Peter's bullet went wide, but Festus's hit its mark.

Peter Jones hit the floor with a heavy thump. With the immediate threat out of the way, Festus turned his attention to the bandits. "Would any a' you like t' try your luck?"

The bandits looked from Peter's corpse to each other and bolted for the door. Festus holstered his gun. "That's what I thought."

His celebration was abruptly brought to an end by Glenn. "Festus! It's mom, come help!"

In the end, Peter Jones had his revenge. The bullet that missed Festus hit quite a different target. Festus rushed over to where Glenn was kneeling next to his mother and raised Julia's head slightly. She smiled dimly at him, blood pouring from a wound just below her right collarbone.

"You did it," she whispered. "You freed us. If I don't make it, take good care of my boy."

Her eyes slipped closed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Gunsmoke_, but I do own Julia.

**Note:** This is it! This is the end! It's been a journey, and I do so love finishing things that I start. I hope you like it :3

**. . .**

The first thing that Julia Jones noticed was a dull ache in her chest. Something inside her recalled previous events. Peter had shot her. Peter! She forced her eyes open and pushed herself up on an elbow. She craned her neck to see the spot where the pain was radiating from. A neatly tied bandage covered half of her chest. She looked around and recognized the room as one of Doc Addams'.

As if on cue, Doc Adams entered from his office. "Well, I'm glad to see that you're awake. How're you feeling?"

"Well enough. But my chest hurts."

He walked over and sat down in a chair next to the bed. "That's to be expected. It should stop soon. In the meantime, would you like something to dull the pain?"

"No, I'll be fine. Doc," she paused. "Where is Glenn?"

"At Ma Smalley's. Don't worry yourself, he's fine. Ma's spoiling him rotten."

They passed a few moments in silence before Doc spoke.

"There's a question that I've been expecting," he glanced at her over his glasses. "Would you care to ask it?"

She nodded. "Where's Festus?"

"To tell the truth, I'm surprised that you missed him. He was here not five minutes before you woke up. As for right now, I think he's down at Delmonico's getting some breakfast and about a gallon of hot coffee. He'll be back soon."

"I owe him a lot."

"More than you think. When he brought you into town, you had his badge pinned to the inside of your corset. Now that plus the bone in your corset deflected the bullet away from your heart and lungs."

Julia smiled. "I knew there was a reason I saved that old corset. And to think, I almost convinced myself that throwing it away was a good idea a few years ago."

"And what do you have to say about the matter of the badge?"

"I don't know how much Festus told you, but I was hiding him and if he was found I didn't want them to—to treat him badly if they discovered him. So I hid the badge in the one place that I was sure they wouldn't find it."

Doc nodded. "That's what I thought."

The bell on Doc's door clanged and was followed by a loud thump and a cacophonous clanking noise. Festus appeared at the door of the sick room a few seconds later. He pulled his hat off and tried to straighten his hair. "Doc, Mrs. Jones," he cleared his throat. "Doc, I was a' wonderin' if I could speak t' Mrs. Jones for a minute.'

"I don't see any reason why you shouldn't," Doc rose and crossed the room. He clapped his longtime friend on the shoulder. "In fact, I'd recommend it."

Festus closed the door behind Doc. He licked his lips. "I'm mighty glad that you're all right. A' course with old doc workin' on y' there wasn't much doubt…" he trailed off mid-sentence and stared at her. "I'm just mighty glad that you're all right."

"Come here, Festus."

He stepped forward.

"Closer," she patted the chair next to the bed. "Come sit with me."

He obliged, sitting in the chair with his hat in his hands, twisting it nervously.

"Festus," Julia began. "I can't begin to know what to say. You killed my husband."

Festus gulped.

"But—But, in that same moment, you saved me. I don't know whether to thank you or to slap your face! Well, I'm leaning towards the former," she squeezed his hand. "Thank you for saving my life and Glenn's."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Jones," he squeezed her hand back.

"I hope we can remain friends, Festus. I'd like that very much."

"I would too."

"Just one thing: if we're going to be friends, you must call me Julia."

Festus nodded. "I'd be plum glad to, Julia."

"Good."

At that moment, Glenn burst through the door. "Mom! You're awake!"

"Yes, dear."

He launched himself across the room and scooted to a stop next to her bed. "I'm so glad that you're OK!"

"So am I."

Glenn looked from her to Festus and back. "Say, you two are lookin' awful smiley. Is there something I should know about?"

Julia smiled at Festus. "Is there anything we need to tell him?"

Festus smiled back. "Naw, I don't reckon so."


End file.
